A Pinch of Magic
by stellar asterism
Summary: Alfred, for once, needs Arthur's help with something.


Sometimes, just sometimes, Arthur wondered why it couldn't be this calm, this relaxing every day. Things have been relatively quiet today when compared to his usual routine; there had only been a few calls, none of them of great importance, and so far, there had been no visitors, no one knocking on his door; and for once, he got to actually enjoy his afternoon tea without it being spoiled by—

"Arthur! Arthur, open up!"

The Briton grumbled, finishing his tea quickly before setting the cup aside and rushing to the door before that idiot broke the door down with that kind of knocking. He knew it had been too quiet to be true. The world wasn't _this_ sane.

With a scowl on his face, he opened the door, immediately coming face-to-face with a very terrified American. His glare faltered for a moment, confusion showing on his expression before he forced that scowl back on. "…Why are you here?" Arthur finally asked after a short pause, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow.

"I, I, I need your help!" Alfred hastily stammered, hands gripping the other nation's shoulders, "Th-there's something—"

"Help?" the Briton calmly cut in, tilting his head slightly, his expression unimpressed, "You want me to _help_? Alfred, this had better not be a joke or something of the sort."

"I'm serious!" The bespectacled nation frowned slightly. "Sheesh, do you always have to be so damn suspicious?"

"Do you always have to be so damn irritable?"

"Look who's talking."

"…I'm not going to help you," Arthur calmly said, shrugging the blue-eyed nation's hands off him and reaching for the doorknob, fully intent of shutting the American out.

"Ah, wait!" Alfred quickly said, grabbing the other nation's hand in an attempt to stop him from closing the door, "I was serious about needing your help!" He paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction from the Briton. "A-and you're, uh..." he quickly added when he saw that Arthur simply lifted an eyebrow in disinterest, "I think... you're the only one who can help me with this, so..." The blond chewed on his lower lip nervously. "...Please?"

The green-eyed nation stopped to think for a moment. How long had it been since he heard Alfred, the proud and confident Alfred, say "please" to him? Something was definitely wrong here.

"W-well, if you're certain about that..." he slowly said, lifting his hand from the doorknob and shrugging Alfred's hand from his wrist, "I suppose I... have no reason not to help..."

"I knew you'd understand!" the American cheerfully said, grinning happily at the older nation.

"I-it's just because you won't stop bothering me about it, alright?" Arthur murmured, shifting his gaze away from the glasses-wearing blond, "It's not as if I care about you or anything..." He cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Anyway, what is it that you need my help with?"

Before Alfred could start explaining, however, a large, black figure appeared right behind him, prompting the Briton to pull the other nation inside and slam the door shut. "What the bloody hell was that?" he reflexively yelled, obviously shocked by the sudden appearance of the... thing, whatever it was.

"I was hoping you'd be able to answer that!" the blue-eyed nation replied, fear clearly portrayed on his expression. "I found that, that thing in my wardrobe this morning, and it won't stop following me!"

"...Wardrobe?" Arthur shot the younger nation an incredulous look. "How did _that_ fit into—"

"It wasn't that big when I found it!" Alfred whined, throwing nervous glances at the door every few seconds, "It was only about three inches tall, and, and I thought it was kind of cute, so I took it with me, placed it on my shoulder... but then it bit my ear!"

The Briton sighed and rolled his eyes. "You reek of hamburgers, you know. It probably mistook you for one."

"Arthur!" he whined again, pouting slightly, "I'm being serious here!"

"Yes, yes," the island nation nonchalantly said as he began walking along the hallway, "I'll get rid of it for you. A simple spell should do the trick."

"The thing's dangerous, I tell you," the American insisted, tailing behind the older blond.

"Alfred, unless it can pass through the front door, then—"

The sound of a door being slammed open cut his sentence, and the two turned to see the black figure slowly pushing through the doorway. Both nations paled considerably, eyes widening in both shock and fright, frozen on the spot for a few moments before Arthur recovered from his paralyzed state and started running, dragging the trembling American with him.

"See? I told you it was dangerous!" Alfred shouted once he got over his shock, his voice shaking slightly.

"Don't rub it in my face, you sodding git!" Arthur retorted, frantically looking around for something, "Damn it, where did she put the key?"

"What key?"

"The key to the cellar!"

"Why are you looking for that instead of—"

"Look, if you have time to complain, then I suggest you help me search," the older nation impatiently interrupted, "I can't do anything about that thing without what I keep there!" He grumbled, turning his attention back to the search. "All of my spellbooks and equipment is in there, idiot..."

Had the situation been a normal one, Alfred would have teased the green-eyed blond about his belief in magic and such, but even he could see that now was not the time for mockery. Hastily, he began searching for the aforementioned key, keeping an eye on the creature at the same time. It was moving slowly along the hallway, its size preventing it from moving freely; the thing was practically squeezing itself into the much smaller space, and Alfred could see—no, feel—that it did not like having to do so.

"Found it!" Arthur suddenly exclaimed, snapping the American out of his thoughts and turning his attention towards the other nation. The Briton was hastily unlocking a door nearby, though he was still careful enough not to accidentally break the key. Within seconds, the door swung open, and without any hesitation, Arthur took the younger nation by the hand and pulled him past the door and down a flight of stairs.

"Where are we going?" the blue-eyed nation asked, examining his surroundings. The place was much, much less ornate than the rest of Arthur's house; in fact, it looked a lot like one of those dungeons in a castle; and he could swear that the air had just become a lot colder.

The Briton didn't answer, however. He simply continued pulling the other nation downstairs, leading him to a large room housing many strange markings and items.

"...Arthur, what is this place?" Alfred warily asked, not liking the atmosphere of the room one bit. The place looked like something straight out of a horror movie, what with the rather dim lighting provided by the candles littering the room and the strange circles on the floor. An almost unbearably thick smell of incense wafted about the room, and for a moment, the American thought he was going to choke from it.

"Just be quiet and wait," the older nation dismissively said, picking up a chalk from the array of items on a nearby table and quickly drawing another circle on the floor. His quick, unhesitating movements clearly showed his experience at this kind of thing. "Now get in there, and try not to scuff the circle," Arthur then said once he had finished drawing, throwing a glance at the circle before moving towards the nearby bookshelf, "And whatever happens, don't even let a single strand of your hair out of it. It's for your own good."

Gulping quietly, the bespectacled nation stepped into the circle, silently watching as the Briton hastily browsed the books, occasionally grumbling to himself. Again, if this had happened under normal circumstances, he would have poked fun at Arthur's belief, maybe even scuff the circle he was standing in a bit, but now, he just couldn't help trusting the other nation. The way he had acted ever since they arrived at this room was brimming with confidence, with experience, and Alfred just couldn't help but think how charismatic Arthur could be, given the right prompt.

Alright, well, he _was_ once an empire, a great empire, so that kind of charisma was a given, but to see it directly like this—even if it's under the strangest of circumstances—was something else. How long had it been since the older nation awed him enough to render him speechless like this?

...And, damn it, he did _not_ just think that Arthur looked cool. Christ, something was really wrong with him. Honestly, _he_ was supposed to be the one who was dealing with the situation confidently, not that, that old geezer who believed in fairies and unicorns and all those silly, imaginary things! _He_ was supposed to be the hero here, not Arthur! _He_ was supposed to be the cool one, the _awesome_ one, and Arthur should be the one rendered speechless by _his_ actions, not the other way around!

Alfred smacked his forehead lightly. _Who the hell am I kidding?_ he thought, letting out a sigh as his eyes wandered back to the blond who was busying himself with what seemed to be spellbooks. _If I could handle this on my own, I wouldn't have come here asking for help._

"It's here," the older nation then said, abruptly dragging the American out of his thoughts, "Get ready."

Warily, Alfred turned to look towards the stairs, where the black figure from before was standing. He gulped, watching as the thing started to approach him slowly, making sure that he had not stepped out of the circle. Yes, he may not usually believe this kind of thing, but at the moment, listening to Arthur sounded like the best idea, no matter how absurd it sounded.

Just then, a sudden ball of light whizzed past him, hitting the creature with a loud noise. Both his and its attention was turned towards the source of the attack, who, naturally, was the green-eyed nation standing by a large runic circle, a spellbook in hand, looking determined yet slightly unsure of something.

As the black figure shifted its attention from Alfred to him, Arthur took a deep breath, readying himself for another spell. _Just a little more,_ he thought, murmuring the incantation under his breath, _Just a little more, and..._

Another blast resounded in the room, the impact throwing dust everywhere. Reflexively, Alfred shielded his face, coughing slightly as he tried to look past the dust while making a slightly off-topic mental note to remind the older nation to clean this room once everything was over. "Arthur?" he tentatively called out, squinting a little in an attempt to see past the cloud of dust, "Arthur, where—"

"Stay right where you are!"

The American stopped in his tracks, only realizing that he had very nearly stepped out of the circle. How did Arthur know? He couldn't even see anything clearly with all these dust—

His train of thought was abruptly cut off when a pillar of light suddenly erupted nearby, followed by what sounded like an extremely eerie howl. Subconsciously, he took a step back, eyes fixed on the somewhat unnerving spectacle, mouth slightly agape.

Someone wake him up from this nightmare.

A few moments later, the light disappeared and the howling stopped, much to his relief. The cloud of dust quickly dissipated, thanks to the lack of activity, and before long, the visibility level returned to normal, allowing him to see the aftermath of whatever it was that had just happened. Surprisingly, the large, black creature was nowhere to be found, though the next thing he saw quickly dropped that thing to the bottom of his list of priorities.

"Arthur!"

Without thinking, he ran towards the nearly collapsed blond, a worried look on his face. "Arthur, are you alright?" he said, kneeling beside the older nation, "Did it hurt you or—"

"I'm fine, you idiot," the Briton replied, tone as sharp as usual despite of how his words were no more than a murmur, "Don't make such a fuss out of it."

"Well you don't look fine to me," Alfred insisted, pouting slightly. "Here, let me carry you back upstairs."

"I can walk on my own just fine, thank you very much," the green-eyed nation briskly replied, pushing the other's hands away as he slowly stood up. To be honest, he didn't think he would be able to make it upstairs on his own, but he had his pride. There was no way he was going to willingly let that brat help him.

The bespectacled blond let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, at least let me look like a hero in the end!"

Arthur shot the younger nation an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you know..." The American ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "At least let me carry you upstairs like how heroes carry damsels in distress out of—"

"I am _not_ going to be your bleeding damsel in distress!" the island nation retorted, scowling, "_I_ sent that thing away, in case you haven't noticed! Hell, if anything, _I_ should be the hero!"

"That's precisely it!" Alfred said, frowning slightly, "I don't get to be the hero at all!" He paused, shifting his gaze sideways. "It doesn't feel right..."

Arthur sighed. "Would you please stop that dejected look? It's not a big deal."

"It is to me!" the bespectacled nation insisted, mustering up the best kicked puppy look he could. "Please let me carry you!"

"No!"

"Please?"

"I said no, idiot!"

"Pretty please?"

The Briton was silent for a moment before letting out a sigh and smacking his forehead lightly. "Oh, fine," he reluctantly said, crossing his arms and looking away from the younger nation, "But only because you won't stop whining about it."

At that, Alfred's face instantly lit up, a large grin on his face as he effortlessly hoisted the other nation onto his arms. "Thanks, Arthur," he said, planting a quick kiss on the other's cheek.

"Just shut up and start walking, you git," the older nation murmured, blushing slightly.


End file.
